Vanitas stared down at her trembling hands, horror flickering in her eyes as if she herself couldn't believe what she had just done.
Meanwhile, Kafka, still shaken, staggered back a step, his mind spinning.
'What the hell just happened?'
His heart pounded so hard he almost thought it would burst out of his chest. For a moment, he wondered if this wasn't even real, if it was just some twisted dream, some fantasy his mind had conjured up.
He turned sharply, eyes landing on Evangeline, who was frozen in place with a grave look. "Evangeline!" He blurted, startling her. "Slap me. Right now!"
She blinked in shock. "What?"
"Don't ask, just do it!" Kafka snapped, his voice trembling with urgency. "Slap me across the face. I need to know if this is real or not."
Her mouth parted, caught completely off guard by his demand. "Kafka, are you—"
"Do it!" His voice cracked, eyes desperate. "Don't hesitate. Just slap me!"
Seeing the intensity in his gaze, Evangeline reluctantly raised her hand and gave him a light slap across the cheek.
The sound echoed faintly, but Kafka didn't even flinch.
"No!" He barked, shaking his head. "Harder. Faster. I want you to slap me like you mean it."
Evangeline grimaced. "Kafka, this is ridiculous—"
"Do it!" His eyes burned with conviction. "I want to feel it. Hit me with everything you've got. Hard enough to shake the heavens!"
Her expression twisted between disbelief and frustration. Finally, with a sigh, she raised her arm high, her aura crackling.
"You asked for it."
Her palm whipped forward with blinding speed.
Boom! Whoosh!
The impact cracked through the air like thunder, and in an instant—Kafka was sent flying off the very clouds beneath them, soaring into the horizon like a shooting star.
"Evangeline!" Vanitas gasped, her voice breaking in outrage as she watched her son fly towards the heavens.
But Evangeline merely shrugged, her lips curling into the faintest smirk. "Your son demanded it. Don't glare at me. Complain to him, not me."
Before Vanitas could retort, she waved her hand, and in a rush of divine power, Kafka came hurtling back, caught in her will and set down before them once again.
"Kafka! Are you all right?!" Vanitas rushed forward, her face twisted with worry. She cupped his face, her eyes scanning him. "Even with the immortal body I gave you, that was—why would you ask for something so absurd?"
Kafka rubbed his cheek, still stinging from the blow, and let out a shaky laugh. "Because I had to be sure. I needed to know this isn't some dream…and that slap told me it's real. This is reality."
But then, his smile faded. His eyes hardened as he met her gaze.
"Which also means what just happened was real too. What I felt, what I saw, it wasn't some hallucination." His voice sharpened. "So tell me, Mom…what the hell was that?"
"Why were you looking at me like that? Why were you…coming on to me like you wanted to devour me?"
Vanitas's breath hitched. Her body stiffened. She quickly released his face and stumbled back a step, her lips parting but no words coming out. Panic filled her eyes.
Seeing this, Kafka narrowed his gaze, stepping forward.
"No, don't you dare step back. You're not escaping this." He grabbed her trembling hand, holding it firmly. "If it was anything else, I could excuse it. But this, this was serious. You were about to…" He trailed off, his voice breaking. "You owe me the truth."
Vanitas's composure shattered. Her proud demeanor melted into flustered fear, her lips trembling. She turned to Evangeline with a desperate look, almost begging silently for help.
But Evangeline merely folded her arms and shook her head.
"No. Don't look at me. Lady Vanitas, I've already helped you far too much. Without me, the two of you would still be estranged. I've done my duty. This matter…This is between you and your son. I won't interfere."
"Evangeline—!" Vanitas's voice cracked.
Evangeline turned away. "Don't drag me into this…This secret of yours is too much even for me to explain."
Kafka's eyes narrowed as he turned back to Vanitas.
"So she does know. That means this isn't some accident…It's something serious. What are you hiding from me?" His voice softened, but there was steel behind it. "I thought we promised to be honest with each other now. No more secrets. No more lies…So tell me, what is it?"
Vanitas trembled, her lips quivering, beige ahe slowly shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper.
"No…Kafka, no. This is one thing I cannot tell you. Please…it's too much. Too horrible."
Kafka's brows furrowed. "What could possibly be worse than abandoning me?"
"You don't understand…" Her voice cracked, almost a whisper. "If I tell you this truth, you'll hate me. You'll never look at me as your mother again. You'll never…call me 'Mom' again." She choked, trembling violently. "It's worse than anything I've ever done. It's so bad…I don't even deserve to breathe the same air as you if you knew."
Her hand shook in his grip as she shook her head desperately, whispering again and again.
"No, Kafka. I can't…I can't tell you. Please…don't make me."
Kafka's eyes narrowed as he watched her reaction.
This wasn't the regretful, mournful Vanitas he had seen before—the goddess weighed down by guilt over abandoning him.
This was something different. The shame on her face wasn't just guilt, it was horror.
The kind of shame that lived in the marrow, a terror of one's own actions. Whatever she was hiding, it was much worse than he had imagined.
But even so, he knew he couldn't back down. Not now. If they were ever to truly rebuild, to truly be mother and son, nothing could stay hidden between them.
He surprised her by suddenly taking both of her trembling hands into his, holding them tight. He didn't say a word. He just stared into her eyes, steady and unwavering.
And to her own astonishment, her shaking stopped. Her frantic breath slowed. In that silence, some of his calm bled into her.
Once her hands had steadied, Kafka spoke softly but firmly.
"I don't know what this is. I don't know what you're hiding or why you're so afraid, Mom. But if we're going to make this work, if we're really going to try again, we can't keep secrets…Not like this."
His thumb brushed across her knuckles.
"You should know that secrets grow. They rot. They break what they're hiding in. If this stays buried, it'll come out later, and it'll tear us apart. So, tell me now. Let me face it with you in this very moment."
Her lips trembled, eyes flickering as if torn between confession and flight.
"I know it's hard." Kafka went on gently. "I know you're scared of losing me again. I can see it. But you don't have to be. Not anymore. I'm here. I'm happy I got you back, Mom. This…"
His voice broke a little.
"…this is one of the best days of my life. I've been waiting for this for so long. And I'm not going to let a secret ruin it. No matter how horrible it is, I'll take it. I'll stand by you."
"If you've sinned, I'll do penance with you. If you've done something monstrous, I'll stand next to you until it's repaid…I promise."
Vanitas stared at him, eyes glistening, lips parting as if she didn't dare breathe.
"Really, Kafka?" She whispered. "You…You wouldn't push me away? You'd try to understand, even if you knew the truth? Even if it disgusted you?"
"Trust me, Mom." He nodded slowly, smiling at her with a softness that made her chest ache. "I'm your son. You said I might not be like you when it comes to pride, but when it comes to promises, I keep them—even if it costs my life."
"And I promise: I won't push you away. No matter what."
Vanitas's breath hitched. She stared into his eyes for a long, trembling moment, weighing everything, before finally letting out a long, shuddering exhale. Her fingers tightened around his.
"This truth…" She whispered, voice raw. "It's going to change everything. After this, we won't be able to stay as we are now. We won't be just mother and son anymore. But if you want the truth, then…" She swallowed hard, eyes shimmering. "…then I'll give it."
"Tell me." Kafka squeezed her hands.
Vanitas's eyes brimmed with tears. She let out a shaky laugh, a sad, self-deprecating sound, then finally spoke, her words trembling out of her.
"The honest truth, Kafka…the one thing I never told you…" Her voice quivered. "…is that right now, I love you. I'm obsessed with you. I love you so much it frightens me."
Kafka blinked. "Huh? Well…that's not really a secret." He said awkwardly. "I kind of figured that already. It's obvious you're obsessed with me, Mom. You've made that pretty clear."
But she shook her head violently, tears spilling over.
"No…you don't understand." Her voice was hoarse. "I do love you as my son. More than anything. But it's…it's gone past that. I don't just love you as a son anymore."
Kafka's smile faltered. "Then…how?"
She bit her lip, her blush deepening, and finally whispered,
"I-I don't just love you as my son, Kafka. I…"
"…I love you as a man."
The words hit him like a thunderclap. His eyes went wide, his face drained of color, his hands trembling in hers, while Vanitas, still clutching him, kept speaking, her voice breaking.
"Unlike other mothers, my love has passed beyond simple maternal instinct. It's gone too far. I think of you. I dream of you. Y-You're not just my son anymore in my eyes. You're…the man I—"
She choked on the word.
"…the man I love."
Kafka's entire world tilted. His hands twitched in hers. His breath came ragged. He could barely process what he was hearing.
And yet Vanitas kept going, trembling, ashamed but unable to stop.
"That's the truth, Kafka. The worst of me. The thing I feared would make you hate me forever. I don't just love you as my child."
"…I love you in a way no mother should."